


i feel your warmth, and it feels like home

by peaches (crocustongues)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Fluff, M/M, domestic warmth and bliss, let me have this, love and other soft things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 18:30:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14338488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crocustongues/pseuds/peaches
Summary: in which Tetsurou and Daichi share a college dorm, and all the feelings that come with it; a story told in seven parts.





	i feel your warmth, and it feels like home

**Author's Note:**

> i was overwhelmed by my love for these two at 1:53 am and i literally cried for 20 min after watching a haikyuu compilations video, so i ended up with 500 words of them eating breakfast together and decided to wing it

_i._

Breakfast is possibly the only meal Tetsurou shares with Sawamura for the better part of their first semester. Tetsurou’s chemistry class starts at 9 every weekday, and Sawamura goes on early morning runs, unless he’s got to cram for an upcoming economics exam or his absolute nightmare of a statistics professor’s set them a horrible thirty page assignment due in a week for a tenth (a whole _tenth!_ ) of his grade. Regardless of occasion, they share breakfast at the rickety table the dorm was equipped with when they moved in.

Sawamura, Tetsurou notes, eats his toast with a glob of butter, spread unevenly across the bread. He eats it guardedly, hands shielding the bread as he takes bites of it, trying to keep his eyes open. It was plausible, Tetsurou thinks, that it’s because Sawamura grew up in a household with mischievous twins and an equally wily cat, all running around and quite possibly elbowing him in the process (or trying to steal his food). 

Not to mention his high school volleyball team of astoundingly loud crows, the very picture of unruly schoolboys, complete with ridiculously over-the-top drama and huge appetites to match. Needless to say, for Sawamura, all nineteen years of his life have been a lesson in patience and perseverance. 

It’s different in the dorms, where Tetsurou doesn’t even eat toast, his mother has conditioned him to one medium bowl of oatmeal with an almost slurry-like texture, because Tetsurou, like all teenagers, isn’t an awake and functioning human being before 8 am, and doesn’t know (or, frankly, _care_ ) when to stop pouring the milk.

Sawamura had been surprised, bordering on shocked disgust, when he’d caught Tetsurou drizzling raisins into the disaster he called breakfast. Tetsurou had defended it, calling it nutritious and low-maintenance and Sawamura had let it rest, sometimes eyeing the bowl with a look of cynicism he reserves for Tetsurou when the sink decides to flood itself and Tetsurou tells him, with an air of unfounded confidence, that he could deal with it just fine and they didn’t need any help.

(They always do, though, Tetsurou’s idea of helping is vastly different from Sawamura’s and it usually ends with the tap going from a gentle and steady _drip-drip-drip_ to a fully bonsai waterfall.)

Tetsurou licks his bowl clean and flicks Sawamura’s forehead lightly, he doesn’t really want to wake him up; truly, who in their right mind wakes up before they’re supposed to? Sawamura downs his last bite of toast and half-heartedly glares at Tetsurou before they part their ways and start their days.

Tetsurou wonders, suddenly, in the second half of his chemistry lecture, when he’s really supposed to be taking down notes on certain types of alkenes, whether Sawamura managed to wipe of the crumbs dotted around his lips.

_ii._

Daichi’s phone lights up with a blue notification about the weather. He clicks his tongue halfway through his shower when he realises that Kuroo, who isn’t awake enough to make a proper breakfast for himself in the mornings, isn’t likely to have checked the weather to take an umbrella with him.

He still has another ten minutes before he really has to leave, so he sits down on the couch, knowing if he lay down, he’d never get up in time. Their couch was cursed like that, Kuroo jokes sometimes, and Daichi laughs in conjunction because their couch has made them do things they wouldn’t normally do, including (but not limited to) spilling scorching hot coffee on the other person, getting them late for class, and instantly putting anyone to sleep if they dared rest their eyes for moment. Not to mention the countless possessions they’ve lost (and found, miraculously, when they were least expecting it) in the couch.

Daichi looks around, idly taking in the room, thoroughly lived-in as it; the stacked paper plates by the sink alongside an empty bowl of oatmeal (scraped clean of any lingering raisins, and Daichi scrunches his nose momentarily), the textbooks lying around ( _Principles of Organic Chemistry_ and _Fundamentals of Macroeconomics_ and an odd science fiction book either of them might’ve picked up with the intention of passing the time but never got around to finishing), and a gigantic pile of laundry and sneers maliciously at Daichi from the far corner.

Laundry is the worst of Daichi’s demons, every two weeks, groaning internally at the very thought of dirty clothes. He’s going to have to think of a way to bribe Kuroo into it. He groans at his phone, too, when it tells him he _really_ has to leave now, before his statistics professor somehow deems him unworthy of entering the class or, even worse, sets the class _another_ thirty page assignment. 

_iii._

It wasn’t supposed to rain today, but true to the fact that the universe hates Kuroo Tetsurou, it does, and he’s forgotten to carry an umbrella. The choices he can see so far are: wait the rain out, or go to Sawamura, who, by virtue of the fact that he’s the more responsible one between the two of them, probably has an umbrella.

So he suffers through the rain and waits a good ten minutes, scrolling through the dozens of cat photos on his Instagram feed, when Sawamura whacks him softly upside the head and chides him for not carrying an umbrella, as they walk past the Economics building to the other side of the campus, back to the dorm so Tetsurou can persuade Sawamura into making him some hot chocolate.

(“Why would I do that?” Sawamura asks, clearly amused.

“It’s raining,” Tetsurou points out, slightly put out by the fact that Sawamura isn’t perturbed by the rain in the slightest.

“And cats hate the rain, is it? If you take over laundry tomorrow, I’ll do it.”

(Tetsurou, like all college students, doesn’t understand the gravity of the bad decisions he makes, so he agrees and leans into Sawamura to leach all his warmth for the cat comment.)

_iv._

Such is the life of Sawamura Daichi, almost twenty years old, living in a cramped dorm with his old high school volleyball rival, who pops his head into Daichi’s room all too often, and when he does, it’s never a good omen.

Which isn’t to say it’s never _fun_ with Kuroo around, like the time he’d ordered in too much pizza (because, “I have a student discount and does anyone, ever, _need_ a reason to order pizza, Sawamura?”) and Kuroo had that Look in his eye and had informed him in all seriousness that there was no such thing as too much pizza. Granted, they’d suffered the next day, but it had been _fun_.

This time, however, Daichi thinks his luck has run out. He’s sitting on the cursed couch (which, at this point, he’s sure has something to do with his current situation), next to Kuroo, watching what he can only call the most touching and cinematic K-drama he’s ever watched. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so invested in a single person’s romantic endeavours—and that’s saying something because he spent a chunk of his high school life with one Sugawara Koushi who didn’t quite understand the nuanced concept of shutting up.

He waits with bated breath as the main character turns around to tell the love interest she was going to break up with him because of a misunderstanding that genuinely infuriated Daichi from four—or was it five?—episodes ago.

“I can’t be with you anymore,” she says and turns away, and the music crests into the end credits, and Daichi’s heart lies broken in a million pieces. He sniffs a little, reaching to put on the next episode. He can’t leave the love interest hanging, can he?

“OK, I think that—are you _crying?_ ” Kuroo’s eyes widen a fraction as he scoots closer to Daichi, clearly concerned.

“No. Maybe.” He’s not _crying_ but there might be some tears. Maybe.

“We can watch what happens in Main Character-san’s love life tomorrow. It’s 3 am.” Kuroo points out prudently, tugging at the blanket Daichi’s got himself tanged in.

“Why don’t you remember her name? This was your idea, you know,” Daichi huffs. His heart aches for the love interest.

“Yeah, but Main Character-san is so _boring_ I stopped paying attention. Besides, you were super into it and I didn’t want to, you know—“ He breaks off, perhaps realising 3 am Daichi isn’t a reasonable person, and boring or not, Main Character-san’s love interest deserved better. “You’re so cute sometimes, Daichi,” he laughs softly.

Daichi pinks a little and mumbles something about Main Character-san’s love interest under his breath.

“We only watch till the second Love Interest-san realises what’s up, got it?”

Daichi agrees, scooting over so Kuroo can wrap himself up in the blanket too. It’s not like the miscommunication will last another six episodes, will it?

_v._

Some days are better than others, but _today_ clearly isn’t one of those days. Tetsurou’s _done_. More accurately, he’s _done for_. This is his last report to crunch out for the year but he doesn’t think he can do it. _Damn_ it. Damn it all to _hell_. He hasn’t even _started._

He makes and unholy sound of frustration and smothers his face with all the scraps of paper lying around in an awful, last resort attempt at figuring something out. It must’ve sounded really pathetic, because Daichi, who’s just walked in after what was likely a hard day of classes, drops his keys in surprise.

Tetsurou doesn’t move when Daichi sits down next to him on the couch, taking in the situation and quickly realising that Tetsurou might’ve had one cup of coffee too many.

“It’s going to be fine, you know. This is your last one, right?”

Tetsurou nods. The surge of anxiety crawling up the length of his throat says otherwise. He slumps forward, face down into a pile of graph paper and messy calculations on the coffee table, trying not to cry. _It’s fine_ , he tells himself, _it’s fine, you can do this_. But he doesn’t feel like he can.

Daichi quirks an eyebrow at this uncharacteristic show of surrender. In a sudden swell of affection he buries his hand in Tetsurou’s already unruly hair and somehow, somehow, Tetsurou’s anxiety goes back to its deep dark hole.

“Don’t stop for a bit, will you?” He says, muffled by the sheer volume of notes and Daichi complies, telling Tetsurou about the cute puppy who followed him almost all the way home.

“So, are we ready to tackle the last obstacle in the way of your freedom?”

Tetsurou blinks at the laptop screen. _There’s no way out of this_ he thinks. Maybe, if he finishes early he can convince Daichi to go see if the puppy’s still around. 

“Yeah.”

And it’s not like Tetsurou’s heart suddenly skips a beat or two when Daichi smiles, dimpled and soft and bright.

_vi._

For all his faults, Daichi considers Tetsurou to be an exemplary roommate. He buys bread when Daichi forgets to and lets Daichi swap chores with him—even though Daichi knows Tetsurou hates laundry almost as much as he does (it doesn’t stop him from trying to bribe him with coffee or the occasional promise of dinner, though, this world is governed by the survival of the fittest, the law of the jungle, etc., and Daichi has no qualms about enforcing it).

For all his faults, Kuroo Tetsurou is an excellent roommate, a fast friend, a frequent pain in the ass. 

The list goes on, sometimes, usually in the dead of night, when Daichi’s supposed to be sleeping, but instead he thinks about Tetsurou’s ugly laugh and the way his eyes crinkle around the edges of his smile.

He realises this one evening when Tetsurou’s home visiting his mother in downtown Tokyo; it’s her birthday over the weekend and Tetsurou is nothing if not indulgent. Daichi’s sent his wishes along with a chocolate box shaped like a cat.

The dorm is quiet without Tetsurou around. There’s no one to whine at Daichi about the sink or about class or literally anything under the sun. There’s no ungodly sound of someone pouring an extravagant amount of raisins into a bowl of oatmeal in the morning. At 8:18 in the morning, with no bread for breakfast, Daichi frowns at a sticky note covered in chicken scratch on the kitchen counter reminding him to buy bread.

It’s around a mouthful of less than satisfactory instant ramen that Daichi realises it and frowns a lot harder.

( **To Tetsurou:**  
Happy birthday to your mother!

 **From Tetsurou:**  
_image_ )

It’s a smiley picture of Tetsurou and his mother, with cat whiskers on and cat stickers littered liberally around their faces. Daichi can feel the high spirits radiate from his phone.

 _She loved your gift, but she wouldn’t let me try a single one_ Tetsurou writes to him, and Daichi can _hear_ the petulance. He bites back a laugh and types out a reply.

( **From Tetsurou:**  
did you buy the bread?????? )

_vii. a)_

In reality, Tetsurou doesn’t come to realise it any more than already having the knowledge deep in his heart and acknowledging parts of it as they surfaced. It had taken a good portion of his third year at Nekoma, between cramming chemical equations into his head and tuna sandwiches into his mouth—his mother always insisted on making lunch for him, since he couldn’t make his own breakfast to save his life.

It’s different in the dorms, though, where tuna sandwiches are rare and Tetsurou eats his disaster oatmeal at 8 am every weekday. His mother still offers (read: threatens) to make him some whenever he calls home dutifully every week to report his status. 

There is Daichi, whom Tetsurou has proclaimed to be the enemy to all oatmeal-kind, makes him hot chocolate whenever it rains, almost like clockwork. There is Daichi who never bails on his over-the-top, perhaps not too well thought out plans he may or may not have concocted for not-ulterior reasons. (Of course _not_ ). There is Daichi, wherever he looks, and over time, even when he doesn’t.

It’s an idiosyncratic function, to reach for Daichi.

Because he’s always _there_. Within reach.

_vii. b)_

“What,” Daichi asks, “is on the radio?”

The radio in question belongs to their upstairs neighbour, who hasn’t quite grasped that sound _carries_. It isn’t always bad, though, Upstairs Neighbour-san has a decent taste in music for the most part and only blares his radio at reasonable hours on weekends. So much so, Daichi hums along to an old classic sometimes and Tetsurou belts out the cheesy lyrics when he can.

Tetsurou looks up from the floor, where he’s sitting cross-legged, focused on what only appears to be meaningless scribbles on some graph paper. It’s an endearing picture, Daichi thinks absentmindedly, Tetsurou is tucked away into an overly large sweater with his glasses almost hanging off his face and his hair in complete shambles.

“Don’t know,” Tetsurou says, brow furrowing after a beat of silence save for Upstairs Neighbour-san’s radio filling the gaps between them.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out this problem, but it makes no sense at all,” Tetsurou yawns, stretching out his arms over his head.

“Take a break, then. It’ll come to you when it does.”

“Ever wise, aren’t you? Say, dance with me,’ Tetsurou says, waiting on Daichi to pull him up.

“Dance? At 2 in the afternoon?”

Tetsurou shrugs and waits expectantly.

“Sure,” Daichi replies, because when has he ever said no to any of Tetsurou’s ideas?

In Daichi’s defence, it is pure coincidence it comes to him, in the middle of a cramped dorm room, next to the coffee table, shuffling close, millimetres apart. There is no cataclysmic epiphany, no supernova of self-awareness, only idle understanding and acceptance, the kind that quirks up the corners of his mouth when he takes Tetsurou’s hand.

He hides his nose in the hollows of Tetsurou’s collarbones, very much enjoying the sound of his smile, very much smiling to himself in a cloud of heady warmth; hand in hand, swaying in time to an almost-forgotten love song playing faintly a few rooms away.

**Author's Note:**

> i just wanted a fic where it's obvious that they're in love and there's no dramatic epiphany they're both like - oh, he loves me. that's literally all i wanted please good night.
> 
> (the title is from 'here is the house' by depeche mode)
> 
> let me know if you liked it! please! i crave validation!


End file.
